


I Cast Esprit D'Escalier

by batyatoon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hindsight Is Nat20, Missing Scene, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyatoon/pseuds/batyatoon
Summary: A slow-witted security guard?  Really, Vax, you can come up with a better story than that.





	I Cast Esprit D'Escalier

**Author's Note:**

> (Contains spoilers through episode 26 of Critical Role Campaign #1. Please do not post anything in the comments that might be spoilery for later episodes.)

****The guard falls against the wall like a discarded sack.  A quick glance shows the key to the door behind him still in his hand; the door isn’t locked.  Vax takes a breath, flips up his hood, and pushes open the door just enough to slip through as stealthily as he possibly can.

And stops, startled.  Behind the door is not the corridor he was expecting, but the opulent guest room itself.  Ornamental tables to either side of the door he’s just opened, a circular carpet of rich red on the floor, two high broad windows flanked by armoires, an ornately carved canopy bed draped in purple silk ﹘

﹘ and Lord and Lady Briarwood, standing near the bed, she in the process of taking off her jewelry and he standing nearby to talk to her ﹘

﹘ both of them looking directly at him, with interest, with only the mildest surprise.

_Don’t freeze, don’t freeze, say something!_

Vax lets out the breath he’s holding, working hard to make it sound like fervent relief.  “Oh, thank the gods I’ve arrived in time. My lord, my lady ﹘” It’s the last thing in the world he wants to do, but he looks quickly over his shoulder at the corridor (feeling the back of his neck prickle as he takes his eyes off of the pair) and then shuts the door firmly behind himself.  And turns back to them, to finish: “I’m here to warn you that you’re in grave danger.”

Lady Briarwood’s eyebrows rise, eloquently.  Lord Briarwood looks more amused than anything else.  Neither speaks.

“There is a plot afoot against you,” he forges on, keeping his voice low and weighted with dire significance, “at the highest levels. Do not trust the Council; I have every reason to believe that at least one of them is in on it.  Please, you _must_ listen.”  He meets Lord Briarwood’s eyes with all the you-have-to-believe-me earnestness he can muster.

A beat; a small hesitation.  The amusement fades slightly, and the Briarwoods exchange a glance.

“You look strangely similar to a man we just had dinner with,” says Lady Briarwood, slowly ﹘ cautiously, he thinks.  Hopes. “But your voice is different.”

“Yes, my lady,” he agrees at once.  “The man you dined with this evening was not me.  It’s only through this subterfuge that I’ve been able to get in here to speak with you.”

Lord Briarwood tilts his head, with a long measuring look.  “If your tale is true, then tell me … why would a stranger go to such lengths to warn us?”

Vax takes a breath.  “I’m here tonight,” he says, “because a de Rolo befriended my family, once.  Just as they did you.”

Another shared glance, and Vax hopes grimly that tonight isn’t the first time they’ve told anyone that bullshit about how they and the de Rolo family first met.  Nothing to do but go on, though ﹘ “I know something of the history you shared with the de Rolos, before their sad demise. What you have done for them, for their legacy, in taking charge of Whitestone … there is a _debt_ , my lord and lady.  A debt that can never be discharged.  But in their memory, for friends such as you, I would do what small service I may.”

He puts everything he’s got into selling that plea, and watches their eyes dwelling on his, and has just enough time to think _yes, good, they’re buying it_ before something jabs sharply into his ribs from behind ﹘

“What are you mumbling, brother?” asks Vex, brightly.

“What,” he says, and glares.  “Nothing. Don’t _poke_ me.”

“Keyleth says we’re almost to the farmstead.   _I_ don’t think you heard her.”

“Of course I did,” he lies, and looks away.  They are, indeed, coming up on the farmlands on the outskirts of Emon; he and Vex are bringing up the rear, trailing somewhat behind the others.  Which, he realizes, probably means that _he_ was trailing behind the others, and his sister dropped back to nudge him out of his reverie.

Vex does not look even the smallest bit convinced.  “What _were_ you mumbling?”

“Nothing,” he insists.

“ _Vax_.”

He groans, very quietly.  “All _right_.  I was … so, last night at the palace, when I stumbled into the Briarwoods’ room?  I wasn’t prepared, and I gave them a shitty cover story about being a security guard, and I was just … going over what I should have said to them instead.”

His sister just gazes at him for several seconds, her face completely expressionless.  And then her lips tighten, and one hand flashes out to swat him hard on the arm.

“Ow!” he protests, loudly enough that a few of the others glance back at them.  “What ﹘”

“Of _all the things_ ,” Vex chokes out in some combination of fury and hilarity, and swats him again by way of punctuation, “of all the _stupid_ shit you did last night, including the part where you nearly fucking got yourself _killed_ , seriously?  _That’s_ the part you want to do over?”

“ _Ow!_ ”

 

 

Several yards ahead, the largest and smallest figures in the group have paused long enough to look back at the scuffle.

“You think maybe we should check if they’re okay?” Scanlan asks doubtfully.

“Nope.”  Grog shakes his head firmly.  “Best leave em to it.”

 


End file.
